Suburban Scrawl

Such intentionally heavy-handed composition
mimics the contractor’s marriage.
A colonial facade masks steel-frame structure.
What appears faithful to tradition here is a cover-up.
They drive to the mall. To an automated bank teller.
To an office or your children’s cross-hatched schoolyard.
To gasoline self-service convenience corners.
They drive home. Maybe they’ll sleep. Dials are whirling.
A woman takes to these houses for their illusions.
Perhaps it’s enough if the walls hold up longer than monogamy.
Should they wonder that mendacious lawyers advertise
surrounded by the perfected aliens of afternoon television?
Painters scheduled for tomorrow should change everything.
In the bedroom, daughters decapitate slutty Barbies.